>>5946158Anacharsis is mere steps away from you, even as Valflame works at rendering you into a smoldering pile of bones. Rising to your knees, you move forward slowly, resisting the Sage’s master-level spell every inch of the way. You take one step, then two, and finally three. Your armor has nearly burned away, and every inch of your body is screaming in agony. You open your eyes, which had involuntarily shut when Anacharsis hit you with his attack. You no longer saw the Sage in front of you. Instead, what was there was the end of your journey. The life you swore you’d lead once all was said and done. You don’t see an Agarthan sage, but a desperate and flailing man, who, for all his bravado and talk, sensed that the end was near. That unless a miracle occurred, he was bound to fail in his life’s work.
At that moment, you knew it was time. To seize your future, and to grant the man you once knew as Charles d’Rusalka the peace he’d long been seeking. You plunge Gungnir into Anacharsis’ heart. (Blair: 43 HP) (Anacharsis: 0 HP)
In an instant, Valflame disappears, as do the wisps that were remaining in the room. You fall to one knee, panting heavily. Anacharsis still stands, though Gungnir has been lodged firmly in his chest. He stares down at the spear, seemingly uncomprehending of how it could have arrived there. Any traces of desperation that were on his face have vanished, replaced with an eerie calm. He falls to his knees, the two of you now at eye-level.
>“Aren’t you going…to assume your true form?” You ask, badly winded.Anacharsis shakes his head, chuckling. “It would make no difference. If I’m to die here, I’d rather it be in a form recognizable to you.”
>“Fool...You should have backed down when you had chance.”“Perhaps. But I’m fine with things this way too. With you being the one to stop me.”
The two of you sit there in silence. Comprehending that the battle has ended, your allies give you both a wide berth. You hear Corrine and Uriel tending to the wounded behind you, including a badly injured Ingrid.
“Blair.”
>“Yes?”“Though I have no right to ask this of you…please humor an old man on his death bed.” Anacharsis’ eyes drop to the ground between you. “Can you find it in your heart to forgive me? I understand that what I ask is laughable at best. I’ve done terrible things. To you, to your people, and to your friends. This is a request purely out of selfishness. That I may pass into the great unknown where my gods still sleep, with at least the consolation that there is some part of you that does not entirely loathe my very being. If I managed to do some good in the thousands of years after Bronte’s passing, I could be content with that.”
>A): Forgive Anacharsis>B): Do not forgive Anacharsis. 